The Riddle and the Twist
by Nello Orella
Summary: I always knew we were different. I always knew we were special. But only I believed it. Rowan wanted no part of it, of magic, until he had no choice. But when we went to Hogwarts, we met Riddle. He was such a goody-two-shoes. But then he started to change. Rowan didn't want me to get involved. But honestly… I had no choice.
1. Chapter 1

The steam billows like white satin curtains, and I'm thankful for the chaos that hides us. Rowan and I stand hand in hand, small and alone on our own isolated island. The gleaming scarlet train seems to glow insubstantially through the mist across the platform. Platform nine and three quarters, that is. This sort of thing hadn't existed in our world – at least, officially – until two months ago.

The brick wall is cold against our backs as we survey the ghostly bustle of mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers all hugging and kissing goodbye. It looks like some sort of fantastic dance, the moisture flowing and filling gaps as bright colours and forms touch and break away with constant, swirling movements. Next to us, a boy with scruffy brown hair desperately tries to untangle himself from his weeping mother's arms. I hear him mutter grumpily, "Go away mum!"

…I wish we had a mum.

Nobody notices us.

Then, through the flurries something catches my eye. Another remote isle briefly appears out of the fog, its sole inhabitant a pale young boy with dark hair. He is standing, quite unaffected by the noise around him, simply staring at everything with a peculiar expression. I've always been good at sensing other's emotions – it must come from being so attuned to my twin's facial expressions. I can identify curiosity, excitement, even a small dash of amazement in the boy's face, but no sense of apprehension, even though he appears unaccompanied.

I feel a small tug of admiration. I've never found anyone who's quite at the same level as me in terms of… I dunno. No one has ever been really _like me_. I've never had that sort of connection with another person. Of course, I have Rowan, and I love him, but he's my twin. My brother, possibly my only relation in the entire world. Depressing thought. I examine the weird boy again, looking for the sake of it.

There. Right there. In just a tiny tightening around his eyes, a light crease in his forehead, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth… is greed? Not quite what I was looking for, but interesting regardless.

Then the boy turns and catches my eye. His face immediately clears. He nods politely. Huh. I slowly return the gesture, my eyes cautiously fixed on his until he breaks the contact, uncomfortably turning his gaze elsewhere. Huh.

I turn back to Rowan, about to say something about the odd kid, but Rowan's face is bright red, and he's gasping. I jump and fumble through his backpack for his inhaler. Dammit. Please please _please _don't have an asthma attack, Row! We just _really_ don't need it right now!

I finally find the piece of plastic and shove it in his mouth. _Breathe! Breathe, damn you! Breathebreathebreathe BREATHE –"_

**I'm fine, Alex! Stop it! I'm okay.**

Rowan sucks in a few deep breaths and I slump in relief. He grins at me and puts away the inhaler as his face slowly regains its normal pallor. "You don't need to react like a stepped-on chicken whenever I get a bit wheezy."

_Why not? I love it when you have a FREAKING asthma attack! It's SO much fun when you almost die, like –"_

"Okay okay okay, I understand," Rowan placates me. And he does understand. Like I said before, he's the only person who is mine, and I'm the only person who is his. There's no one else who will look after us, so we look after each other. I would be lost without him.

"C'mon, let's get on the train," Rowan says. Let's get on; The Train.

Capital letters – in my mind at least.

"OH MY GOD!" I scream. The people closest to us flinch and look around, but I'm already excitedly running after Rowan, somewhat hampered by my bulky trunk, but running nonetheless.

I'm still jumping and shrieking as Rowan precariously balances on a seat while he tries to shove his trunk onto the racks above. I just dump mine on the floor, continuing with my mad dance around the compartment.

_We're going to Hogwarts, we're going to Hogwarts, we're going to Hogwarts –_

"_Ooof!_ Shut up Alex," Rowan scowls at me, rubbing his head after his tumble from the seats.

"Awww, c'mon Row!" I plead cheekily. "We're going to learn to be freaking _fairies!"_

"Don't be stupid Alex, we're going somewhere to learn how to control our… magic. To learn how to control ourselves. We are going to _school._" With that, he drops onto a seat and pulls out a book with a determined look on his face.

I sigh, sit opposite him and look out the window at the muffled colours outside. I sneakily glance at him, then quietly_… A school for fairies._

"Stop that!" Rowan snaps at me. He stands up and stabs his finger at me as he continues angrily, "That is exactly why we are going. To stop – to stop…" **this.**

I jump upright too. "But what if I don't _want_ to stop it?" I retort.

"Alex! This thing we have, this magic we have, it's dangerous! We can't use it, we can't even control it! Who _knows_ what disaster we could cause next?" We are standing practically nose-to-nose as he throws his hands up at the conclusion of his rant.

I fly backwards. I slam into the compartment wall, smacking my head. I stay pinned there for a few seconds as my brother's expression changes from fury to horror. He staggers backwards and collapses weakly into his seat. As his anger vanishes, so do my invisible bonds. I fall messily to the floor. I drag myself back onto my seat and touch my tender head. It doesn't hurt that bad. We sit in silence. Even so, I almost miss Rowan's small whimper.

"I just don't want to hurt anyone…" **Again.**

A whistle blows, and the final stragglers clamber onto the train. The last minute hugs and kisses and reminders and promises are exchanged and the train slowly starts to chug. I feel the vibrations underneath my feet and they seem to match the thumping of my heart.

Yeah. Again.

I hug Rowan as he relives the worst moment of his life. Although, while I feel a great deal of sympathy for him, I can't find any _empathy_. When you can mentally talk and practically read each other's minds, you would think that there would be a whole lot of empathy to be found. But I don't understand why he is still so upset over what happened. I did things too. Bad things, but I don't regret them. They were things that just had to be done. I don't care if stupid Ruth Oliver was hurt – she deserved it. I look out for me and my own, which is actually only Rowan, but he needs someone to take care of him.

The train steadily gains speed, until we finally clear the platform. As it vanishes behind us I stand.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I announce, and I feel a sense of pride when Rowan raises his face and it is unmarked by tears. He's tougher than you give him credit for.

I trip over my feet and into the hallway, eager to escape the strained tension in the compartment. The entire carriage has a very classical décor, I note as I stagger down the wildly jerking hall, using the walls to balance. I peer curiously into other compartments as I go along. Various sights meet my eyes. A group of quite unremarkable girls laughing about something; boys competing to see who could fit the most jelly beans their mouths. A couple pashing. Wait, what?

Ew.

But yes, there was lots of polished wood and green paint, which at one point must be been extremely tasteful. At the end of the carriage, I meet a dark, wood-panelled door. I stick my head in, and frown. The growling of the train instantly intensifies about ten times. I cover my ears. No bathroom here. A man in stained overalls is standing in the small, greasy room. He's so filthy himself that I almost don't spot him – he blends right in. A giant window dominates the wall, and I catch a glimpse of countryside racing past.

Covering the wall in front of him below the smeared window, are multiple levers and buttons and dials and whirring what-nots. Damn. That's a _lot_ of controls.

"Excuse me," I shout. No response.

"Excuse me!" Nil. How he can stand the level of sound in here is beyond me.

Fine then. I struggle to reach out to his mind. I mentally scream, _Excuse me! _

Aha; Result! The man _finally_ notices me. He jolts rather violently, and looks around in confusion before he sees me. He looks astonished, I have no idea why.

**Ya? **Gee, he doesn't sound too friendly.

_Could you please tell me where the bathroom is? _I start jiggling up and down as the man stares at me.

**Dow' te udda end of da carriage, on ye left.**

_Thank you sir._

He grins at me widely, and I catch a glimpse of a grossly mutilated tongue behind rotting gravestone teeth.

**Na prob'lm.**

"Uh, goodbye!" I say quickly. As I leave, I hear a choked, half-strangled attempt at a laugh.

Shuddering, I rattle back down the hall, keen to put some distance between me and that creepy driver. He had been weird. No doubt about it. But… what was it that had really freaked me out? Sure, he had been absolutely filthy, and he spoke funny, and not to mention up absolutely _disgusting_ his tongue had been…

His tongue.

Ooooooooo… No way. No _freaking _way.


	2. Chapter 2

_Rowan! RowanRowanRowanRowanROWAN – _"Rowan!"

I explode into the carriage, a torrent of words on the tip of my tongue, but they're involuntarily swallowed as I perform a spectacular double-take. The small crowd of people all stop speaking to stare at me as I gape uselessly.

"Uuuuuh…" issues from my mouth as I search the unfamiliar faces for my brother. Do I have the wrong compartment? I feel my face heating up, then, thanking God, I spot him.

"Rowan!" I grab him and haul him outside.

"Alex," he complains as I drag him out and slam the sliding door. "Don't be so rude. There are no other compartments available, so I when they asked I said yes. What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, I don't care that they're in our compartment, that's fine. But, y'know how I just went to the bathroom?" I ask him impatiently. He eyes me cautiously, and asks, "Um, well, I dunno. Did you?"

"Don't be stupid, Row! So I went up the carriage it was _so_ bumpy I had to use the walls to stand up and people were doing all sorts of weird things in the compartments like stuffing their faces with weird coloured jelly beans and others were laughing, which isn't that weird, but there were also two people _kissing_ and it was _disgusting_ and have you noticed the décor – it's all green and dark wood – and I dunno about it, they probably could've done better _but_ –"

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you please either get to the point, or shut up."

"Fine fine, so I went all the way up the end and I was like, no bathroom here, but there was this small door and I opened it and it was really noisy and dirty so I think it was the engine room and there was a man in it – probably the driver – and I asked him where the bathroom was–" _and he spoke to me!_

Rowan just looks at me oddly. I wait, holding my pose – hands in the air, eyes and mouth wide, waiting for the penny to drop. He finally says something.

"And?"

Please God, give me the patience…

_He SPOKE to me! _

Pause.

I tack on as an afterthought – _oh, and he had no tongue._

And there, is the reaction I've been waiting for.

"No way!" Rowan shouts, causing several heads to pop out of some compartments. "Seriously? You're not messing with me? He –" **SPOKE to you?**

_I tell the truth, brother._ I grin as he stares at me with shocked eyes.

"But I thought only _we_ could talk –"I shush him as more and more curious heads appear. He freezes, mouth open, before he continues.

**I thought only we could talk mind to mind. I thought it was only because we're twins that we have this… mental connection. I didn't think we could 'tune in' to other people.**

I stay silent as I watch his pacing and his thoughts. It's fascinating, it's beautiful, but most of all it's painful. It's beautiful because his thoughts move in near synchronization with his physical movements – or perhaps it's the other way around. It's fascinating because I can somehow _see_ the delicate blooming and morphing of his ideas as they grow and change, like living things. It's painful, because I'm lying. I'm lying because I _have_ made contact with other people's minds, like Ruth Oliver's. What shocked me this time was that someone actually spoke back to me! I feel my smile slowly fading, and I desperately try to fix it in place.

When my face starts to feel like plastic, I rouse Rowan from his musings. I remind him that we had left rather abruptly five minutes ago, and that the strangers in our compartment would be getting a bit anxious.

"Right," he mumbles, surprised. He shakes himself out and with a bit of effort, reigns in his chaotic thoughts and gives me a nervous smile. "We'll figure this out later," he promises.

Rowan takes a deep breath before he enters the compartment, and I start feeling a little nervous. We are going to meet the people who we are going to be sharing our lives with for the next seven years. I don't have many friends. I scared people at the orphanage – the kids and the adults. Which isn't actually that surprising – I mean, it was sort of intentional, but the man who had told us we were magical had warned me and told me to improve my behaviour otherwise I could be expelled from the special school.

So then, this is where it starts.

"Hey guys," Rowan says sheepishly. "This is Alexandra, my twin. Remember I told you she just had to go out for a minute? Well, uh, she's back."

As I realize that there were only four people, not the huge crowd that first appeared to me, I feel decidedly more confident.

"Hello," I say cheerfully. "I prefer Alex, nobody calls me Alexandra."

"Hi Alex, I'm Alison Corner," the brown-haired girl smiles sweetly at me. "Jonathan and I are twins too! Isn't that strange?" Now that she mentions it, I do see the resemblance between her and the boy on her left. The guy scowls and musses her hair before turning to me.

"It's Jon," he explains. "Not Jonathan."

I nod sagely and salute him before I sit down. "I understand your pain." He nods his head very seriously before cracking a grin.

I turn to the blonde girl on Alison's right. Actually, I _think_ her hair is blonde. If it is, it's extremely dirty. And really needs a cut. Wait, where are her eyebrows? Ah, there they are. Her hair must be very blonde indeed underneath all that muck. Her seeming lack of eyebrows and her wide set eyes give her an odd look, not necessarily unpleasant, but eccentric. As I examine her, her expression remains curiously vacant, and for a moment I fancy I see a strange distortion around her head, as if something invisible were floating about. I shake my head and feel the urge to poke her.

"Alex!" Rowan exclaims, blushing.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," I reply tartly, but my eyes remain fixed upon her features as Alison and Jon laugh. She gives a little start, and looks around inquisitively.

"Hello!" I rapidly wave my hands.

"Oh," her face becomes dreamy again. "Olleh."

"This is Lauren," Alison jumps in. "Lauren Lovegood."

"Nice to meet you, Lauren," I murmur, still watching her. I wonder what thoughts are going around under that dirty hair of hers? I try to reach out, but it's difficult. My mind feels strained, tired, after my encounter with the driver. That's strange – I never feel tired after 'talking' to Rowan.

I get the odd sensation of sliding backwards. No – I want to know what she's thinking! Determined, I mentally lunge, and the fingertips of my mind roughly scrape against the girl's.

Two screams, both mental and actual, pierce my ears.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Lauren Lovegood shrieks. Everyone in the compartment flinches and covers their ears as Lauren performs a screeching dance, wildly batting at the air around her head. I withdraw my probing mind, fascinated.

"WRACKSPURT!" Lauren screams as Alison, Jon and Rowan attempt to calm her down. I suddenly become aware of the sixth person in the compartment.

I turn my head and meet the scrutinizing gaze of the peculiar boy from the platform. He is very pale, possible more pallid than when I had initially seen him, and his hair is messy and black – blacker than those small pieces of nothing between stars. His eyes match – impossibly so, not a hint of colour defines the pupil from the iris. I suppose he is good looking, but I can't really tell – I'm only eleven. Besides, I can't really see much else apart from those pits of fiery ice-cold black and what I read in them.

Shock, surprise, curiosity, amusement and… Approval?

I return this mix with a blank. I regard him silently through the shouts of the others, and his emotions are quickly hidden behind a cool mask. I conceal my pleased grin and mimic the nonchalant nod he had given me on the platform. He doesn't disguise his though, and his dark eyes glitter from his colourless face like two blots of wet ink on parchment as he reluctantly smiles.

"Tom Riddle," he pronounces calmly, and holds out his hand. I take it and it feels absolutely arctic. The shake is rapid and firm and I release him as soon as it is over.

His smile transforms into a satisfied smirk.

_I don't like you._

His smirk disappears.

**_Good._**

The word flashes into my head then just as swiftly vanishes. I swear I could have swallowed a watermelon in that moment.

Rowan chose that second to turn around and view my spectacularly popping eyes and gaping mouth.

"Are you okay, Alex?"

"Pfffft… yeah! I'm completely okay. Just dandy. Excellent. Awesome. Great. Watermelon."

"What?"

"Never mind."

I sit still and bite my tongue for a while, resolute not to look at Riddle again. I _do_ look closely at Lauren. Her expression is perfectly serene, like her screaming fit never happened. I feel a twinge of relief that she is okay, or, well, as okay as a mental person can get, I suppose. I wonder what would happen if I tried again? I tentatively begin to creep out, but I become conscious of someone watching me.

**Alex? **I let out a breath. It's only Rowan.

**Alex, is something wrong? You aren't speaking.**

_No, I'm just tired._

**You should listen in. Alison and Jon know loads about Hogwarts, it's really interesting.**

My attention piqued, I zone back in.

"Jon and I are starting our third year," Alison was saying. "The rest of the school is starting to think that maybe we're not such babies after all." She grins. "You first years are gonna be the little children. You won't be allowed to do much, like join the Quidditch team or go to Hogsmeade. We're only allowed to start going to Hogsmeade this year."

"What's Hogsmeade?" Riddle interrupts. Alison looks startled – Riddle hasn't said a word since he introduced himself to me.

She hesitates for a moment, then asks him, "Are you muggle-born, Tom?"

I hold my breath, waiting to see how he will respond. I can feel the irritation rolling of him in waves, but he is perfectly cordial. "I'm not sure. I grew up in an orphanage – my mother died on the doorstep and I never knew my father. However I suspect my father – who I am incidentally named after – is a wizard. If my mother was a witch she wouldn't have died." He says this all very shortly.

"We grew up in an orphanage too!" Oh _please_ don't Rowan! No matter if Riddle wants to throw his whole sorrowful life story on their lap, we don't need their pity. He continues anyway. "We never knew our parents either. Apparently they both died or something."

"Oh," Alison said, sadness in her expression, but before she could say anything Jon took over.

Thank you Jon.

"Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain," he says proudly, as if he personally founded it. "You have to have a signed permission slip and be in year three or above to visit on the weekends." He carefully removes a scrap of paper from his bag, holding it like a baby bird, and shows us. I lean forward in interest but it's only a scraggly bit of paper with some words and a signature. I lean back again.

Boring.

"What's Quidditch?" I ask, hoping it would yield a more interesting conversation.

Alison and Jon's faces light up. Bingo. Out of their mouths spills a whole torrent of words depicting a game with four balls, seven players on each team, three goal hoops and a massive fan base.

"_Everybody_ loves Quidditch!" Jon enthuses delightfully.

"And best of all," Alison adds, "We have a whole tournament at Hogwarts! Every house has a team and the competition runs all year. The finals are at the end of the year, and whichever team wins get the Quidditch Cup!" Her eyes glaze over.

"We're both going to be trying out for the Ravenclaw team," Jon says excitedly. "I want to be a Beater and Ali wants to be Chaser and we –"

"Whoa whoa whoa," I cut in, feeling very, _very_ confused. "What do you mean houses?"

Jon and Alison exchange shocked looks. They both lean forward very seriously and look at us.

"The four houses of Hogwarts!" Alison exclaims.

"Ravenclaw –"

"Hufflepuff,"

"Gryffindor,"

"And Slytherin!"

I snort. "Hufflepuff? Really?"

"Don't laugh, Alex," Rowan says reproachfully. "Did you even _try_ to read any of the books we bought?"

I stare at him very seriously. "No."

"Well," Jon picks up. "Hufflepuff was founded by Helga Hufflepuff, and to be honest, it's probably not one of the better houses."

"Yeah," Alison says, "it's for people who are _loyal_." She rolls her eyes. "Meaning no disrespect to any Hufflepuffs, but they're not particularly special."

"Unlike people in Ravenclaw," Jon smirks.

"Wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure!" Lauren suddenly sings.

"Ravenclaw," Alison continued when it was clear Lauren wasn't going to say any more, "was founded by Rowena Ravenclaw, and it's the really smart house, for all the brainy people. I don't know why Jon is in it really."

"Hey!"

I turn to Rowan and grin. "Sounds like your type of people buddy. The lady who made it even has a similar name to you!"

Rowan blushes.

"And Gryffindor," Alison continues, "is where 'the brave dwell at heart'. Godric Gryffindor was their founder, and they're the really tough people, but they're nice, and they are really determined about, like, _everything_."

"What about the last one?" Tom speaks up. Whoa, I almost forgot he was there.

Actually, that's a lie.

"Ahh," Alison says mysteriously. "Slytherin was founded by Salazar Slytherin, and it's turned out more dark wizards than you can count!" She cackles evilly.

Lauren jumps in absentmindedly. "Schonzzwaggas were discovered by a Slytherin."

"Yeeeeaaah," Jon gives a loaded glance in Lauren's direction. "Grindelwald came from Slytherin. They're all crazy I reckon, all dark and ambitious and sneaky. You don't want to be friends with a Slytherin, they'll stab you in the back the first chance they get if there's something in it for them."

"Besides," Alison chimes in, "Slytherins mainly stick to themselves. Nobody likes them. Legend has it, that Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were best friends, but then after they created Hogwarts, something bad happened, and they turned into worst enemies. Eventually, Salazar just disappeared, vowing he would get back at Gryffindor some way or another."

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

We all jumped, startled out of our deep, dark conversation. Muahahahahaha.

Jon and Alison mobbed the trolley, buying tons of liquorish sticks, or liquorish 'wands', cupcakes (cauldron cakes) and those brightly coloured jellybeans, which turn out to be even weirder than they appear.

"Can I have a jellybean?" I beg. Jon and Alison exchange mischievous looks.

"Sure." Jon hands me a white one, and Rowan a red one, attempting to hide his smile. Riddle declines.

He and Alison giggle and Rowan and I look at them oddly. I'm the first to shrug, and I chuck the bean in my mouth. Rowan follows my example and we both start choking.

"Wha iv dish shtuf!" I cry, spitting it out. "Tastes like bloody toenails!"

Alison and Jon crack up, rolling on the seats and the floor, absolutely howling.

"Toenail flavoured bean," Jon chokes.

"Glad I didn't get that one!" Alison hiccups.

After Rowan's initial reaction, he starts chewing again, a frown upon his face. Finally, he swallows, smiles, and exclaims, "Steak!"

I scowl. Of course I got the disgusting one.

The rest of the trip is fun, I am eventually persuaded to try another 'Berty Bott's Every Flavoured Bean', and we have a competition of sorts. Conversation flows, and Jon and Alison are more than happy to answer our questions. We learn more about the Hogwarts and the wizarding world than we ever would have from our books. Lauren also joins in occasionally, jumping in with a random fact about Wizzlehavers or Loshbangers, but she is so serious about it that we can't help but fall to pieces every time she speaks.

Riddle is the only downer. He sits in the corner, silent, but polite enough. He pulls out a book, and begins to read. Every time I see him out of the corner of my eye, his head is either bent over his book, out turned towards the window.

Yet, every time I turn away, I can feel eyes burning me.


End file.
